A Game of Cards
by sorallellow
Summary: Jack's infamous in the underworld for being England's most lethal assassin, but his next assignment proves to be the hardest yet. Who is this mysterious girl he was sent to kill? And what ties does she have to his past?


**its been so long that i posted anything since i started revising for my exams- but i had a flash of inspiration and an urge to write! sorry this isnt the next chapter of An Alliance of the Brave, i _am_ working on it (slowly) so bare with me... **

**anyways i rly hope u enjoy this one-shot, its a little dark, a little broody and a bit of a mess, but was a LOT of fun to write. **

* * *

Sunlight poured through the open blinds, bathing Jack's sleeping form in a yellowy-golden light. His grey duvet covers barley reached his ankles; his long, lanky legs had outgrown pretty much everything in his apartment over the past two years he'd been staying here. Through bleary eyes, the boy fumbled for his iPhone on his bed-side table. The familiar ring tone had been playing non-stop for about half an hour, but had only just disturbed him from his night of little sleep. Unlocking the phone, he swore under his breath as 9 missed calls flashed on the screen and begrudgingly played the voicemails.

"Hi Jack, it's me. Last night was really great and I think we should talk, maybe give me a ring..."

"Yaddah, yaddah, yaddah" He grumbled to himself as he deleted the message. Rising from his bed, Jack stretched and rubbed his face as he listened to the second voicemail, but was wide awake by the time it finished.

"S33 8DZ High-rise building 4:30 nmpo." The computer scrambled voice read into his ear. Jack's stomach dropped. Another assignment.

Who would it be this time, he asked himself as he reluctantly made his way to the bathroom. The self-hatred was a necessary procedure he went through every time he got a phone call from Ace. Somehow, getting the torture over with before the mission started prevented him losing it on the job. Focus was crucial in his line of work. One slip up and you could end up dead.

"Better you than me." He whispered to his reflection, a wry smile forming on his perfect lips.

* * *

To an onlooker, the boy appeared to be exceptionally average. He wore a dark blue hoody over a pair of black skinny jeans tucked into red Rebox. Most of his face was covered, but if you looked closely, a lock of silver hair was peeking out, and you could catch a glimpse of the strong jawline and icy-blue eyes that made up Jack Overland. He had perfected the 'trying-to-hard-to-be-gangster' walk that allowed him to pass unnoticed in the street, just like any ordinary teenage boy. But to anyone who knew him, knew the kind of dirty work he did, Jack was far from ordinary.

He was stood, popping gum in the Kidden town centre, in Manchester, England, staring at a vast block of high-rise flats. The air was damp and dreary, and the whole streets of concrete houses were awash with a dull grey tone. Even the people were miserable, Jack thought, as a teen mum pushed passed, trying and failing to keep several rug-rats under control.

She looked as if she was going to say something to him, but was interrupted by his phone blaring out the generic ring tone so she turned back to yelling at her kids. Jack put the iPhone to his ear.

"Apartment 41A top floor. Girl. Blonde. Kitchen."

A girl, but that was to be expected. The fact she was blonde just proved that Ace was trying to test him, using his past to mess with his head.

"Prepare to be disappointed." He muttered to himself. Years of training meant he was too thick-skinned for anyone to break him. And he'd show that sadist he could handle ANY assignment, no matter who the target was.

Moving quickly but not so fast as to draw any attention to himself, Jack reached themulti-story parking-lot opposite his target. It was practically falling down, it large cracks running down the side of the building, smashed windows and was covered in graffiti. He hated living in such a run-down area, it made him feel dirty and cheap. He had this desperate need for everything to be neat and that's how he did his job too. The end game was always quick, clean and he never, ever missed- which was exactly what made him so good at it.

As Jack entered the car-park, he took a quick glance at his watch before sliding into the elevator and pushing the fifth floor button. Now all he had to do was wait. That was easier said than done.

This was not his first time. He was a pro, infamous in the under-world with the alias of Jack of Hearts, referencing to the agency he belonged to. But the fact this situation was so familiar didn't stop his heart from hammering or his palms from sweating so badly they almost slipped off the banister. Learning against the door of the elevator, he once again tried to ease his nerves, concentrating on the gradual upward movement of the floor rather than the task looming ahead of him. It was of no prevail. Questions kept slipping into his head, doubts and fears that were normally eradicated during his morning routine somehow prevented him from being able to put on his 'mask'. For some reason, this time felt different. _He_ felt different. Jack guessed it was because Ace had added pressure by giving him someone who reminded him of... her. The memories he had ever-so-tightly locked away for the last 7 years. The ones he could almost convince himself never existed.

His inner turmoil was interrupted as the lift wheezed to a halt on the fifth floor, the battered doors opening to reveal an empty car-park with a clear shot of the apartment he was looking for. A hot flush washed over him as he stepped outside, droplets of sweat forming on his hood-shadowed forehead. Angry at himself, Jack bawled his hands into fists, took a deep breath, and walked towards the large, open windows, dialling Ace's phone from inside his hoodie pocket. He raised his black smock so it covered the bottom of his face and put his head down, careful not to attract the attention of any security cameras. Finally, his nerves began to settle. His fingers stopped shaking and Jack was able to put on his 'mask' that allowed him to adopt his _other self_. The one that didn't care whether he lived or died.

His rucksack slid down his back as he put his iPhone to his ear. "In position, nmpo." Jack began assembling his weapon as his eyes searched the apartment for the girl. "No clear target."

"It was spotted less than half an hour ago. It's definitely there." Ace was as emotionless as ever, his voice giving nothing away. But Jack was used to that. Besides, it was easier if they both wore their masks on the job, it kept this world and the 'real' world separate. Though sometimes Jack wasn't sure if Ace's true face was the one he wore during work or his personal life.

"Ready to take aim. Still no girl."

"King is on the other side. She's in the bedroom."

Jack cursed. He hated waiting. "I'll take it from here. If anything happens, call me."

"Don't screw this up." Ace replied bluntly before hanging up. Jack swallowed, keeping his finger hovering over the trigger, aimed at the building.

From the direction of the cameras, security shouldn't be able to see the rifle, but kids with hoodies were not taken lightly in these parts, so he had to be ready to make a quick escape if a guard came snooping. That was a lot harder when he was standing in broad daylight with a ready to shoot.

He once again scanned the room, which he could now make out to be a kitchen. The walls were painted a pale green, almost like a psych-ward, and the whole look came off as grimy and un-kept. Although Jack tended to avoid asking questions about his client, he was still curious in a kind-of messed up way.

Something moved in the apartment, and his steely eyes narrowed in response. He made his aim, his arms tense, ready for the kill. And then, he felt himself smash into a thousand tiny pieces and shatter across the car-park.

The girl. The one who was meant to be dead. Standing just metres in front of him. Alive.

His heart went silent, his head began to pound, blocking out any sound through his ears. Everything spun around him, the world all but dissolved right before his eyes. The only thing he could make out, the only thing that was important was that she wasn't dead.

His Rapunzel.

As he watched her, everything came flooding back. Her laugh, her smile, her golden hair and perfect waist. Jack's heart was crushed with emotion he had never even dreamed he would experience again. It was so surreal that he almost had to pinch himself to believe this was happening, this wasn't just another hallucination or dream he was about to wake up from. But he knew it couldn't be. Otherwise his family would be alive too.

Slowly, he was dragged back down to earth as reality hit him with the strength of a boulder. She was his target. _He was meant to kill he_r.

How would she feel knowing what he had become? After she nursed him back to life, gave him a home, a reason for living- he had taken it and used it to _murder_. She would never forgive him. Jack wasn't the same person as when they were together. He was an assassin. His hands were tainted beyond redemption- there was nothing she could do to heal him now. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and, as if on auto-pilot, he lifted to his ear, allowing himself to be hollowed out by the realization of what was happening.

"What the fuck is taking you so long?" Ace barked in his ear, and he winced. Jack had to think fast or else she was going to die- and he didn't think he could live through that. Not again.

Licking his lips, Jack silently prayed that his voice would stop shaking. "I can't kill her."

"What?" Ace's voice was thick with annoyance. "You have a clear shot. Do it. Now."

"I think she knows something." He replied quickly, his heart pounding so hard he was worried Ace could hear it. "Something valuable."

"All the more reason to follow through with our client's orders." Ace said sharply, but Jack noticed a note of hesitance in his voice, and prayed on it immediately.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Ace. It's a set up."

The phone went silent at the other end. Jack held his breath. "Fine. We'll keep her under custody until further notice. But _you_ have to retrieve the target and the envelope and report back to AKs." He paused and Jack had to swallow the urge to whoop. "You better be right about this."

"Understood. I'll be with you in a half hour." The receiver went dead.

Jack leant against the concrete wall, taking shallow breaths as if he might collapse. He certainly felt like he would. He ran a hand through his silver-white hair, then, smiling softly, examined a piece between his finger and thumb. Another thing that had changed since he last saw her. He looked across the street to her kitchen window, inspecting her more closely, and noticed that her physical appearance had altered too. Her hair was cropped short and browner than he remembered it, and even though Jack loved her golden locks, he had to admit she looked cuter than ever- cooking spaghetti without a care in the world. He watched her for another minute, worried that if he were to look away, she would disappear again.

His frowned deepened, however, when another set of questions hit him.

Who wanted her dead? And why?

But also:

What the fuck was he going to say to her?


End file.
